How lucky I must be
To have been born when I was
The middle of autumn,
A score ago
To have grown up as I did
Playing with stick swords
And scraping with villains only imagined
To have been fighting for love
Before the term was defined
How lucky
That I didn’t grow up decades ago
Before you were so much
Or even had such
A thought
I was blessed I didn’t develop ideas
Only to rust sleepily in a corner
While you gasped for your first breath
And how fortunate
That in this so-called tragedy
I was not cast as Yorick, the foolish
To think I was already dead
How lucky I must be
To have grown up so fast
To be mature enough to be burdened
By your memory
How serendipitous, auspicious
That I have the strength
To bear the weight
When you could not
How lucky I must be
To be able
To live
With a shadow over my head
And “love” written on my wrist
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 8:46 PM UTC
How lucky I must be
To have been born when I was
The middle of autumn,
A score ago
To have grown up as I did
Playing with stick swords
And scraping with villains only imagined
To have been fighting for love
Before the term was defined
How lucky
That I didn’t grow up decades ago
Before you were so much
Or even had such
A thought
I was blessed I didn’t develop ideas
Only to rust sleepily in a corner
While you gasped for your first breath
And how fortunate
That in this so-called tragedy
I was not cast as Yorick, the foolish
To think I was already dead
How lucky I must be
To have grown up so fast
To be mature enough to be burdened
By your memory
How serendipitous, auspicious
That I have the strength
To bear the weight
When you could not
How lucky I must be
To be able
To live
With a shadow over my head
And “love” written on my wrist
These words are mine and mine alone.